


"Don't Fall in Love with Me, Rosalie"

by Smallswritesstuff



Category: Good Game (TV 2017)
Genre: Confessions, Fluff, High School Exes AU, M/M, Self-indulgent Fluff!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 08:52:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14516841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smallswritesstuff/pseuds/Smallswritesstuff
Summary: Title based on "Rosalie" by Joe Iconis. My first drabble in my headcanon/AU that Ryland and Alex dated in high school when Alex's band was just starting up.





	"Don't Fall in Love with Me, Rosalie"

Ryland could fill a book with reasons to keep his guard up. They just kept stacking up ever since the viral video incident of freshman year. So while every other senior was desperately trying to leave a legacy, to define themselves in the final months before they were to be flung into the Real World, to stupidly chase their dreams behind the rallying cry of “Young wild and free”, he wanted nothing more to fade to the back.

  
Unfortunately, Alex Taylor was one of those dumbass legacy-chasing motherfuckers.  
  
Luckily, Ryland wasn’t hopelessly in love with him.  
  
Unluckily, Ryland was lying to himself.

  
There was something almost intriguing in the chaos of Alex. His highs, his lows, his dreams, his ferocity. He’d never seen anyone fight so hard for the things he loved. He grabbed life firmly by the balls and didn’t care what anyone else thought of him. He was on his own journey, and boy, was it a hell of a ride. So in a weird, romantic, stupid, sappy, pointless way, Ryland already felt blessed to be a close spectator to his Road Trip of Carpe Diem. However, the part of him that completely denied logic and humility wanted to call shotgun.  
  
Alex had stumbled into his life around this time last year as the new kid in town with a song in his heart. Ryland had seen his band’s first gig at a family music festival, and it was less than awesome, but he felt a strange sort of pride with their improvement from show to show. Alex would bounce song ideas off of him and ramble on and on about plans for building their image. With how much they daydreamed together about the day they would Make it Big, it was surprising they even got work done in their classes together.  
  
Tonight, Ryland waded through a medium-sized crowd to catch the band’s set at the community Spring Carnival. Just some over-commercialized food festival in an expansive church parking lot. He snagged a spot a couple feet from the stage just as the crew took their places. Alex was decked out in denim and patches and… was that winged eyeliner?  
  
Ryland knew he still got a little nervous and tunnel-visiony onstage, and he could tell it was a bit rough by the way he clung onto the mic stand at first. But halfway through the first number, he totally lost himself in the beat and the pretty notes that just happened to sound like words.  
  
In the round of cheering after their first song, one especially enthusiastic whoop cut through the rest of the noise. Alex searched the sea of people (to be real, more of a lake, or a pond) until he found Ryland. He cheerily waved to him with a “Look Ma, I’m on TV!!” expression, and Ryland couldn’t help but laugh.  
  
The band played a couple of their favorites, a cover or two, and finished off with a song the guitarist had apparently written and crammed down the rest of the band’s throats. Alex had complained about it before, that it was too theatrical, too edgy, but Ryland saw the little smirk grow on his face as soon as he heard the bass line. He put both hands on the microphone and stared down dramatically.  
  
_“I see it in your eyes…_  
I see it in your face…”  
  
His voice was low and whispery in a way that none of his other music allowed him to be, and he pulled it off amazingly. It was way different than what he would write, but how could he hate it?  
  
Alex glanced up directly towards Ryland, with the same intense tone.  
  
_“That look you’re trying to disguise_  
Is a look that I can place.”  
  
They both smiled off the moment as the song continued.

But oh God.  
  
Ryland had it bad.  
  
…  
…  
…  
  
  
After the set, Ryland wandered towards the back of the stage to share congratulations. Just as Alex unhooked himself from his earpiece, he and locked eyes with him through a mess of hair.  
  
“Ryland!” He hurriedly pushed the mass out of his face and wove through the obstacle course of sound equipment to meet him. “Hey, man! So glad you could make it!”  
  
Alex tackled him into a hug, and Ryland laughed. “Me too. You guys just keep getting better and better.” He pulled out of the embrace and tried to keep steady contact for sincerity. “For real. Great job. They were loving you out there. You’re gonna make it.”  
  
Alex beamed, sweetly and softly. “Hey, do you want to, like, walk around?”  
  
“You should stay with your band.” It came out somewhere between a statement and a question.  
  
“They’re leaving soon. They think they’re too cool for this shit. But I think it’s nice.”  
  
Then came the pesky thought again.  
  
Was there a sign he was picking up on? Was there no sign at all?  
  
And if there was in fact a glimmer of anything, he knew Alex would grow to regret it. He deserved so much more. He deserved the world, even if he didn’t see it.  
  
“So…?”  
  
Ryland snapped out of his thought. Way too hypothetical. Back to reality. Alex was cocking a thumb back to the carnival under the dying sunset.  
  
“Yeah, let’s take a walk.”  
  
…  
…  
…  
  
“Ry, I just don’t get it,” Alex muttered over a cup of melting ice cream. They’d settled on a wooden picnic table as the last of daylight was obliterated and cheap fairy lights from vendor stalls lit up the evening. “I’ve sworn on a gap year. I know that I need some time, you know? To sort everything out. It’s kinda bullshit we have to hurl ourselves into another four years, and for what? Nobody’s got it figured out, man. And if you don’t, why keep going with something you don’t want to do?”  
  
“A ticket out of this town.” Ryland sat right beside him as they people-watched from a distance. “And a promise that I’ll figure out what I want to do eventually.”  
  
“Because a soul-sucking corporation symbolized by a tiny adorable acorn is costing you hundreds of thousands to teach you how to think.”  
  
“It works for some guys!”  
  
“I know, I know,” Alex relented. “Still not for me. But I get it. And you’ll get it worked out. I know you will.”  
  
“Thanks, I guess.”  
  
“No, really.” Alex shifted his weight to meaningfully boop Ryland’s nose with the back of his spoon. “I really do believe in you. You’re smart and you’ve got serious talent. With your computers and art and shit. I could never figure all that out. Hardly anyone could. I just think you need to put yourself out there. Take a risk. Find what really makes you happy.”  
  
Ryland tried not to turn red and was grateful for the dimmed light.  
  
_You. Right now, it’s you, you asshole. You absolute prick. You make me happy. You fucker._  
  
“Right. Fuck the money. Fuck the Man,” Ryland agreed.  
  
“Fuck the Man!” Alex declared a little louder than necessary.

They both giggled a little bit as Ryland shyly shoved his head into Alex’s shoulder. “Oh my God, shut the fuck up, you idiot.”  
  
“You’re really cute when you’re embarrassed, you know that, right?”  
  
Ryland’s heart stopped for a second. Oh no.  
  
“Um.”  
  
“Not like actually embarrassed. Like, that kidding-ish kind of embarrassed. Because public humiliation isn’t cool at all. Unless you’re into that. You’d be surprised how many people are into that.”  
  
“What the hell are you even trying to say?” Ryland asked with a chuckle, hoping to get the conversation back to the flaws of the educational system.  
  
“A lot of things, actually.” Alex got quieter than usual. Ryland moved his head away to look at him. His eyes were on his pathetic little ice cream puddle. “But now I think I’m too much of a pussy to say them.”  
  
“…Lexi.”  
  
Alex looked up with the same soft smile from before.  
  
“You’re drunk,” Ryland assumed. Alex shook his head. “High, then. Something. Talk to me.”  
  
“You’ve been with me for the past hour. And you know I’m not into that stuff anyway,” Alex assured him with a shrug. “A couple times, sure, but not, like, huge. And I wouldn’t want to not be sober for this.” He furrowed his brow. “Wait, is that right? Wouldn’t want to not. Double negative. Yeah, that’s it, though. Because not being sober. I wouldn’t—”  
  
What the fuck. What the actual fuck. Ryland can barely breathe and he knows it’s dumb and is against everything he knows but Alex is so fucking adorable and so fucking stupid.  
  
Ryland took Alex’s hand, which shut him up immediately. One more shared glance and he thinks he knows he wants this too.  
  
“I like you a lot,” Alex admitted abruptly. “Like, in a gay way. And if that ruins stuff I’d appreciate it if this conversation never happened.”  
  
What the fuck.  
  
Ryland placed his free hand around Alex’s chin and pulled him in for a quickly-reciprocated kiss. It wasn’t perfect, but that didn’t matter.  
  
Alex smiled against Ryland’s lips.   
  
“So we’re cool?” Alex asked, warm breath bouncing off of Ryland’s cheek.  
  
“If you’re sure,” Ryland said. His heart had yet to stop quivering, but he could feel the same nerves radiating off of Alex.  
  
“Never surer about anything.” Alex took the lead into one more kiss that made everything make sense. 


End file.
